Page 73 of The Story Of Us

I love calling her that, love seeing her reaction to it and how it always brings a blush to her cheeks. There’s no other word I want to call her, though. She is my life, my soul, my everything.

I keep my gaze focused on her, and then she’s glancing down at my lips and nodding her head. It feels like I’m about to ascend to heaven. I lean closer to her, hating that there’s a desk in between us right now. I want to be as close to her as I can.

“Are you sure?”

She nods her head again, fully out of her chair now as she leans over the desk. I do the same, meeting her in the middle until there’s barely any space between our faces, both our heads titled and noses brushing.

“I’m sure,” she says, and I don’t need to hear anything else before I press my lips to hers.

In all the books Violet has recommended to me over the years, the first kiss is always described as a monumental moment, like it completely rearranges the characters’ DNA. I never put much stock into that though; it always seemed too exaggerated, and I didn’t understand how something like kissing could have such an impact. But as soon as my lips press against hers, it hits me.

It feels like a part of me that I hadn’t even known was missing has been found. All the stories are starting to make sense now. I get why the characters risk it all, why they fight battles, travel across the globe, do everything they can just for one kiss.

Kissing Violet feels like I’ve been asleep my entire life, and now I’m finally awake.

I love you, I love you, I love you runs through my mind and I don’t even consider pushing the thought away. I’ve always loved her in whatever way I could, as a friend, as a girlfriend, and now as my entire world.

I lift my hand to her cheek, wanting to hold her closer to me, and I wish I was a superhero who could stop time. I want to stay like this with her forever.

I run my thumb back and forth across her cheek, hoping it lets her know how much I cherish her, adore her, love her.

Then her hand is covering mine, our fingers intertwining perfectly like we were made for each other. She’s the missing piece to my soul, filling me with complete contentment and serenity. The way we fit together, hands and lips slotting perfectly together like pieces in a puzzle - I don’t think I could ever fit like this with anyone else. I don’t even want to entertain the idea of it.

I never thought I could feel like this like my entire world could be concentrated into one person, but it has. And there’s no denying now what I feel for her. She’s the love of my life.

I pull back slightly as the realisation hits me square in the chest, momentarily taking my breath away. Then I press my forehead to hers, wanting that closeness again. I open my eyes, but hers are still closed, cheeks flushed so prettily, and her mouth pouted in a way that makes me want to kiss her again.

When she opens her eyes and our gazes meet, I can’t hide the smile on my face, and I’m so happy when she smiles back at me beautifully. My thumb is still moving back and forth on her cheek, her fingers squeezing over mine slightly as if she’s checking I’m real.

“Jaanu, jaanu, jaanu.” I say it like a wish, hope, prayer.

I say it and hope she hears the words I love you.

When she presses her lips to mine again, I’m sure she’s saying them too.

When we separate, Violet’s arms come around my neck, and mine are around her waist, but we’re sitting so awkwardly and it feels like there’s too much space between us still. I stand, pulling her up with me, and then I’m holding her tighter like she’ll disappear if I let go of her, even though I know she won’t. There’s no way either of us can get away from the other now. The words I so desperately want to say to her feel like they’re about to burst out of me, but I hold them back for now.

Violet sighs softly before pulling back, her hand caressing my neck and jaw before she lifts one to push my glasses back up my face. I’m so used to her doing that whenever she wants to kiss me that I drop my head to hers again and quickly press my mouth to hers, like it’s an automatic response. The laugh she lets out is so gentle, and then she kisses my cheek again before placing a hand on my chest, right over my rapidly beating heart.

“Can you stay for a bit longer?” She asks, and I don’t hesitate before answering.

“Of course.”

She smiles up at me, so beautiful and lovely and mine.

But then she takes a step back, and I follow her as if we’re connected by a taut string that won’t let us go more than a few inches from each other. Violet laughs softly before gently pushing me back with the hand that’s still resting over my heart.

“I need to do my skincare, just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be back out.”

“Can I help you?”

I spent so many nights watching her do it on FaceTime, the meticulous routine of cleanser, toner, serum, and moisturiser. At first, it was fascinating to see how much effort she put into it, and my keen interest meant that she ended up developing a routine for me, too. I went from watching her to doing it at the same time as her, following her instructions as she explained what each product did and the correct order. Sometimes, I felt strangely jealous of her hands, wishing it could be mine on her face instead, so I take this chance to ask her.

“Sure.” She nods, taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom that’s barely ten feet away.

There’s no need for us to hold on to each other like this, but I think she’s missed it, too. After we broke up, it was like there was a phantom weight in my hands where hers should have been. Sometimes, I even woke up half-convinced that she was holding it.

ONE YEAR AGO

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